


Facade

by redtribution



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Christmas Eve, Drabble, F/M, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 20:31:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3824134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redtribution/pseuds/redtribution
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "He looked fine. Like a house with a new coat of paint; new stucco to fill in the cracks in the walls. Too bad she saw through all that."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Facade

He looked fine. Like a house with a new coat of paint; new stucco to fill in the cracks in the walls. Too bad she saw through all that.

The Christmas tree cast a shadow across Reddington’s face, deepening the lines around his mouth and eyes. Liz had known when he suggested they go to Harold’s Christmas Eve party that it was a cover-up. She suspected Reddington wanted to distract her so that she would overlook his preoccupied air and moments of distant sadness. Liz watched as he leaned back into the sofa, crossing his legs and sipping champagne with the easy demeanor of a man well-practiced at hiding his pain. She didn’t buy it for a second.

Liz broke away from the group of happily chatting FBI agents and crossed to the sofa. Reddington looked up at her approach.

“Lizzy,” he said brightly. “You seem to be enjoying yourself. I told you you’d have a good time if you came.”

Liz caught Reddington’s hand in hers. “Come on,” she said, gesturing to the balcony. “Let’s go out for a minute. It’s stuffy in here.”

Reddington set his champagne glass on the table next to him. “Your wish is my command,” he stated. Rising from the sofa, Reddington helped Liz into her coat and then slid into his own. Liz reinserted her hand into his, pulling the sliding door to the balcony open. One after the other, the two of them stepped out onto the balcony, Reddington closing the door behind them.

Snow drifted lazily from the sky. It was as though the weather itself was preparing for sleep, having spent the entire day storming. Liz approached the railing, looking out over Harold’s beautifully landscaped back garden. Beside her, Reddington’s thumb absently caressed the knuckles of her own.

“You’re thinking about them, aren’t you,” Liz said quietly, keeping her eyes on the whitened landscaping. “Your family?”

There was a silence, made even more still by the falling snow. Liz glanced over at Reddington. His expression was difficult to make out due to the low lighting, but he looked pained.

“Always,” he said quietly.

Liz knew there was nothing she could do to ease this pain. It was a weight that Reddington carried with him everywhere; his own personal cross. She sidled closer to him and leaned her head on his shoulder, grasping the crook of his elbow with the hand not presently engaged in his own.

“I’m here,” she murmured. _If only it were enough._


End file.
